The last time I covered the Academy Awards was 13 years ago, back when Hilary Swank forgot to thank her husband in her acceptance speech, Angelina Jolie was still getting along with her dad, and “American Beauty” won for Best Picture.

This was before the ceremony moved back to Hollywood and still took place downtown, at the Shrine. I don’t remember much about that night anymore — I actually had to look up to see what year it was — but from what I can tell, some things have changed and some things have stayed the same for press covering the show.

One thing that hasn’t changed is that going to the Oscars doesn’t necessarily mean you’re actually going to the Oscars, especially if you’re working the event. Publicists, for example, are herded into a pen at the top of the red carpet. Backstage press is sequestered at a secure location nearby—with the move to the Dolby Theatre at Hollywood & Highland, the accommodations have been upgraded from a press tent to a hotel ballroom next door.

Nor does it mean you’re pulling up to the red carpet in a limo. Rather, press parking is located at the Arclight — for my editor and other non-Angelenos, that’s about a mile away. Like everything else about the behind-the-scenes operation, the shuttle service is slick, bypassing the protestors and looky-loos camped out on the corner of Sunset and Highland to a drop-off point about a block away.

A quick hike through the mall, just skirting the red carpet and through two security checkpoints, and you arrive at the pressrooms, greeted by a spread of pasta, finger food and the ubiquitous cocktail shrimp but no booze in sight — it’s gonna be a long night.

Absolutely no photography is allowed in this area, but the Academy did tweet out one picture that offers a sense of the space: rows of conference room tables seating 250 or so journalists packed in like sardines. The flow of traffic in and out of the room is steady, though, as reporters seek a slice of cake or a wifi signal — you can get a hardwire Internet connection, but it’s outrageously expensive. Academy librarians are on hand, though, to research stats — like if there’s ever been a tie before, as there is later tonight.

Starting at 4 p.m., ABC’s live feed is pumped into the room, sans commercials, so Kristin Chenoweth’s and Kelly Rowland’s loud red-carpet interviews are punctuated by periods of black-screened silence. When the show starts, watching the Oscars from the pressroom is much like watching them at home, complete with that one party guest who insists on repeating every one of Seth MacFarlane’s jokes.

Best supporting actor Christoph Waltz arrives about 45 minutes into the ceremony, at which point sound to the broadcast is turned off, although you can still hear its tinny echo from the earbuds of tablemates who’d rather keep watching the show instead. Journalists — including, weirdly, David Arquette — raise numbered cards as if they’re at an auction, vying for one of six or so questions posed to each winner. Then he or she is shuffled off to the next stop on the backstage press tour.

You miss big chunks of the show as winners stream in, cutting off Adele’s performance and Jennifer Lawrence’s acceptance speech. Reaction in the room to the presentations you do catch ranges from zero reaction to Anne Hathaway’s all-but-assured win to a slight swell of surprise at Ang Lee’s.

After the last credits on the broadcast roll, you have two hours to pick up any remaining transcripts you need, clear the room and make your way back to the shuttle stop. Oscar night was an eight-hour workday for me, much longer for many others — exciting, exhausting and not particularly glamorous. But hey, I went to the Oscars!